


need your love (time), you make it right

by colferstilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Animal Play, Fluff and Angst, Hybrids, M/M, bunny!stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colferstilinski/pseuds/colferstilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek doesn't know how, no, <i> why </i> he does it.</p><p>Except he does, <i> of course </i> he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, look at me with another WIP. I'm a total fireball this month but this fic has been sitting in my drafts for months now and has at least 12k in writing which I'll be posting every week while adding new content. It's going to be a long ride uwu and I'll be trying to explore new things like... emotions! A thing that I'm apparently not very good at. :|
> 
> Warnings:  
> \- Pseudo-prostitution.  
> \- Maybe some light dub-con, but not really.  
> I think that's basically it.
> 
> Leave comments so I can get my muse running due to the suckiness that is school *u* Or don't but I'll still love you guys anyway! Or will I...? (cues evil laughter)

Derek doesn’t know how, no, _why_ he does it.

He will not, and shall never bear witness to how he walked into the hybrid store down the shadier parts of Beacon Hills, stayed in there for a little too long until the store owner got a little suspicious of him as he browsed through the fucking selections and then ended up forking about two grand in credit on his American express card for a hybrid.

Except he does, _of course_ he does.

He’s walking around with it, other hand carrying a paper bag filled with the hybrid’s necessities as they walk back to his Camaro, and the little guy has a nice temporary fifteen dollar leash with Derek’s name engraved in floral prints.

He wanted to go grunge, he really did, but it seemed a little 2000’s try hard and it was either that or a generic dog tag.

Florals, then.

Derek only starts questioning his buy (yeah, how it took him that long still bugs him) the minute he starts the engine and the car roars to life.

His pet—no, not pet, because that’s just really depreciating and awful, even for his standards, and that’s _really_ saying something because he literally just spent two thousand dollars of good money over a half human, half animal on awhim. His _hybrid_ squeaks, shrill and sharp in the small vicinity of his car and curls himself into a shivering balled mess on the seat.

Nice leather seats that he paid just to get cleaned a month ago.

Yeah, a real smart move, Hale.

“Hey,” Derek tries for a warm, friendly tone, one his mom used to put on whenever he’s upset, but it probably came out all wrong since his hybrid snuffles even louder, bunching his knees closer to his chest, encasing his head snug on his crotch with ears flattened on his head.

Flexible— _huh_. Bad territory, Derek, mayday _, abort_.

“Is it too loud, bunny?” Derek chokes out and places a hand on the head rest of the seat. He would gladly do the whole comfort touch thing his mom used to do too but he reckons his hybrid would probably shit his pants, and skid marks on his still salvageable leather seats just isn’t worth it. “Hey, here, I’ll just switch it off.”

He does it with a practiced flick of a wrist on his key ignition and the car dies, huffing a little before it quietens.

“Bunny, listen, it’s not loud anymore. There’s no need to be scared.” Derek says awkwardly because their shallow breaths are the only noises left, and really, it doesn’t take an Einstein to put two and two together.

He knows that hybrids aren’t intellectually disabled, in fact, they’re pretty smart. Well, that’s what the store owner said and who is he to call shit on that? He has a hybrid for dummies 101 book tossed in with the necessities he bought so he doesn’t have any say in, well, anything really.

Damn it. He’s trying okay?

He’s still reeling in from the fact that he has a life in his hands to take care now.

Fuck, is this a good time to bring up how he dropped his pet hamster when he was eight and it died immediately from impact? Right, the answer would be _never_ , of course.

“Bunny?” Derek murmurs hesitantly and slowly slides his hand down onto the hybrid’s hunched shoulder, receiving a huge flinch but there’s no shitting of pants, which is good.

A wave of relief surges in him but then he’s smacked with reality on how the worst is actually not over yet because he still has to drive the both of them home, and well, he’s marginally tempted to storm back into the store, demanding a refund.

Oh right, the guy said no refunds—shouted, actually, as he left the store. Just, _great_.

Derek puts on his big brother pants and squeezes lightly on his hybrid’s shoulder, smoothing out gentle circles with his thumb for a few minutes until he feels the tension easing out from his hybrid, legs slowly edging out from under him while his head starts to peer up from between his knees, soft sniffling sighs escaping his lips every few seconds.

“You okay there, little guy?” Derek asks, trying to make eye contact but failing. Maybe it’s because he has this really shit eating smirk lifting at the corners of his lips that makes him look really creepy so he goes with the other route instead—making small conversation.

Everyone has to start small somewhere.

“First time sitting in a car? I know she just scared you a little but I can promise you that she’s really smooth on the roads. She’s just a little jealous that I’ve got a nice bunny all over her pristine leather. Classy, huh?”

He gets a sniff as a reply, well, it’s better than nothing.

Derek gives another five minutes of repetitive hush cooing (really, it’s the maximum capacity he has in his entire lifetime) and a whole lot of getting nowhere before mild agitation creeps on his skin.

He has this thing with patience, a thing where he has none whatsoever.

“So,” Derek starts and he knows that his tone is wavering into a mix of put off and whiny. “Could I start the car now? It’s still gonna be loud at the start, you could, um, cover your ears a little bit for the first five minutes?”

His hybrid doesn’t respond that time, which makes him even more infuriated but at least he looks a lot more settled down than the previous twitching ball he was curled up in a pretzel a few minutes ago. Also, his legs aren’t planted on the seats anymore to which Derek breathes a sigh of relief.

Derek definitely isn’t taking any risks of trying to kick-start the engine without warning again.

He could be an advocate for all wimps.

So, Derek tries again, twisting his face so that his tone comes out in a sweet manner, “—Bunny?”

His hybrid snaps his head up at him, fearful eyes narrowing. “I’m no bunny,” and he says it in a quick beat like his heart is hammering in his throat.

Derek startles and has a knee jerk moment as his kneecap jostles against the steering wheel. What? Those are the first words his hybrid has every spoken since he bought him, signed his named on a nice contract agreement and then don on a signature on the credit card receipt.

“That’s not my name.”

Derek only realizes he’s gaping brazenly when he feels his tongue sticking on his drying palate.

He coughs, “Uh huh.” Derek continues dryly. “And what’s your name, then?”

Derek is only decently taken aback because he has no idea hybrids were already given individual names before taken in by an owner— _human_ , but he’s not exactly shocked in any sense about it since his hybrid looks well grown out, like a regular teenager going through the last spurts of puberty and standing tall with an inch or two missing beside him.

With animalistic features, of course. What with the floppy ears and the cute— _not cute_ because he doesn’t have that in his vocabulary but it’s fucking precious really, scut at the base of his spine, sprouting through a hole from the waistband of his khakis.

“It’s— _well_ , I can’t remember anymore.” His hybrid actually _mewls_ in the most pathetic and petulant way, shoulders slumping with effort and Derek, okay, _that_ , he did not see coming. Not from a mile.

Derek had no idea bunnies actually made noises, but he can fork that up to his minimalist interaction with any kind of animals after Waffle—that’s his passed pet hamster. Shut up.

Cora, his younger sister of four years, thought it was the perfect name at that time and he can’t object to it when he was faced with toddler pleading eyes.

He stills reckons Cora ate too many jelly beans and breakfast waffles the day they got the hamster.

“It’s okay,” Derek assures him and squeezes his shoulder gently once more before he places it back on the wheel. He’s about this certain he could get a job as a Confucius by now with the way he’s spouting bullshitting assurance and all. Confucius Hale— _hey_ , it has a nice ring to it too. “We’ll figure it out together, yeah? We’ve got time.”

He gets a whiplash from an idea that his mind sprouts about how he has one of those thousand baby names book back in his apartment from months ago when Laura was a month due to labour and needed a little brotherly help with baby naming.

They went with Jack after hours of careful consideration, and well, his sister and nephew doesn’t need to know that he only brought up the name suggestion (not because he was on the letter ‘J’, surprisingly) because of the Jack Daniels sitting there idly in his living room, tempting him.

Yeah, Derek _definitely_ could flip through four hundred over pages of organized names for his hybrid, though. If all else fails and he can’t make it through the first alphabet, tequila actually sounds pretty rad.

“Okay, cover your ears for me?” Derek asks nicely. See, he’s making progress with patience. This whole Confucius thing might really work out if he decides to go for it. He could definitely write crappy philosophy and shove them into fortune cookies. “I’m gonna start the car now and it’s going to get loud. You can hold onto my arm if you get too scared, okay? I promise you I won’t hurt you, neither will she.”

His hybrid, the one who shall be named soon (damn it, he is _twenty-four_ , he shouldn’t be allowed to be making such bad jokes, even if they’re in his head), furrows his brows in contrite instead of responding with a nod, or a snuffle, or _anything_ really.

Instead he goes ahead to clasp his hands on the flattened flaps of his ears, they’re fucking coffee coloured and it matches so well with his head full of nicely tousled bronzed hair, and squeezes his eyes shut as though he just seen death flash before his eyes.

It’s so adorable that Derek has to take a minute to flick himself in the balls to not start making gurgling baby noises at him.

They do make it back to his, _theirs_ now, apartment in thirty minutes in a speed that may have sent little miss daisy cackling in mockery and there’s trails of blood hot claw marks all over his arms. Rather it be on his arms than on the seats because he’s definitely not paying another few hundred dollars to get them repaired.

_Again._

Patience, sorted. Now, his priorities.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to learn to read through my work but I'm just a lazy butt hole so it's unbeta'd, as usual.
> 
> Also, all the fluffiness \o/

Derek spends the next week in a constant state of emotions— varying with mostly agony, frustration and anxiety. Actually it’s a whole damn lot of anxiety because he spends half of the time worrying that his hybrid might hurt himself in the process whenever something scares him in the apartment.

Like, the first day, after the whole issue with the Camaro and they’ve managed to settle down after his hybrid positively sniffed out every small area of his new environment.

Twenty minutes later, Derek hears shrieking in the kitchen just when he’s changed out of his jeans and into comfortable sweatpants and got himself comfortable on the couch for a repeat episode of weight watchers.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Derek rubs on his face, exasperated, and quickly pads into the kitchen.

His hybrid is stomping both feet on the marble flooring, ears twitching vigorously as they try to flatten themselves while his face is screwed up in terrorizing fear.

“Little guy, what’s wrong? I thought we were doing okay? Getting used to the surroundings and all? What’s got you all—”

Then he sees _it._

It’s his wide array display of kitchen knives, glimmering like a beacon of promising horror under the sunbeams. His parents got the entire set for him as a house warming gift a few years ago. Yeah, it’s a little sadistic but it’s extremely efficient since he prepares and cooks all his meals ever since he moved in.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Derek croaks weakly when his hybrid starts to whimper, falling down onto the ground and hunching himself into a defensive stance. “Those are safe, _secure_ —they can’t do anything to you, okay? Nobody likes bunny meat.”

As soon as he said it, his hybrid whips his head up at him, eyes widening in comical fear and starts blubbering in nonsense.

“Shit,” Derek curses, slapping his palm against his forehead before he ushers towards him, squatting in front. “Fuck, hey, no. Look at me. I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, of course I did, because nobody eats hybrids here. I don’t, I promise! I like my meat just fine and they’re definitely not from a bunny, and you’re _not_ dinner.”

The hybrid whines, shaking and snuffling a little before he speaks up, tripping over his words. “Y—you won’t eat me? You’re sure?”

Derek cracks a smile, well, a weak smile. He’s kind of exhausted from all the energy he spent running around and playing calm the bunny. It’s officially his least favourite game.

“Yes, little guy. I promise, now come here. Let’s get out of the mean kitchen and into the living hall. Betcha haven’t seen a nice flat screen TV, have you?”

His hybrid narrows his eyes, ears stretching a little as they make an effort to point straight again. “You promise you won’t eat me? The guys down the store, the big, scary ones with the sharp teeth, they said that people who buy hybrids like are only for dinner.”

“I won’t,” Derek tells him and he hooks his little finger out only to retract it back when his hybrid flinches away from it. Right, they don’t do the hook promises thing—little girl scouts do that. Well, he does it but that’s because of Cora.

“We’re having carrots tonight, going all vegan. No meat at all. How’s that sounds to you?”

His hybrid pulls a face, nose scrunching up tight, grunting. “I hate carrots.”

Derek laughs.

Maybe getting a hybrid on impulse isn’t _that_ bad an idea after all.

-

Their sleeping arrangement is the only discussion they have on that first day that goes smoothly without much interference from his hybrid, even though Derek was initially a little reluctant with the suggestion.

He offers up the guest room, one that Laura insists he built because it was much more practical instead of the study corner he had in mind—he understands why now.

It isn’t much though, the guest room, sufficient for now. He hopes.

The walls are a mixture colour of off-white and eggshells, a single bed that Derek breaks out the nice sheets for LG, thinks that he kind of deserves it after being caged up in that store for god knows how long, a bedside table that has collected dust from disuse and a small lamp with no light bulb in it.

It doesn’t look live in at all and still has the lingering smell of wood polish and mothballs, the windows in this room are probably coated with spider webs since he rarely does household chores to this area of his apartment—but he thinks it _should_ be okay.

Right?

He should ask.

“Is this okay? I know it’s not much.” Derek fumbles nervously, rubbing his neck.

He tries to reign in his nerves because he really doesn’t want to pull off an impression to his hybrid that he doesn’t care about him—okay, fine, maybe in the beginning he didn’t, but he does not. It’s a little weird to admit aloud but the little guy has tug on some serious heart strings even he, himself, didn’t know could be tugged.

“Yeah,” His hybrid says, slowly, upturned nose twitching as he openly sniffs the room. “It smells a little like the back room of the store. It’s— _familiar_ , it’s nice.”

Derek exhales in a gust, “It’s a good thing, right?”

His hybrid turns to him, a small, tired smile on his face. “I haven’t slept in a bed for really long, so yes, it’s a _really_ good thing. Thank you.”

“Derek—” He blurts and his hybrid raises a brow at him, confused. “—Uh, my name, it’s, yeah. Derek.”

“Derek,” His hybrid echoes, beaming now, even though weary lines of exhaustion are showing on his face. “Thanks for, you know, everything. I know I haven’t been…easy to handle. It’s the instincts.”

“It’s okay,” Derek bumps him on the shoulder lightly, returning a grin. “You’re doing pretty alright, bunny.”

His hybrid scoffs, plopping himself onto the bed with a sigh, “Do we need to have a talk about how I’m not a bunny again?”

Derek smirks cheekily, races out of the room and shouts over his shoulder, “Bunny!”

-

They spend the next two days going through the first ten alphabets through the baby book and Derek only about loses his cool for about say four-ish— _fifty two_ times. Yeah, he kept count because he thinks that it might make good payback material in the future.

He didn’t really think it through of the mechanics with said payback, though. The right time will come for that.

“Okay, Joseph?” Derek asks flatly that follows with a tedious sigh. He’s not even going to try pretend he’s even a little interested because he’s about two seconds away from ripping shreds of hair from his scalp, going all caveman on this bullshit. “How does Joseph sounds like?”

His eyes are half lidded with listlessness as he glances up at LG. Yes, like the electronics corporation from Asia. It’s an acronym, short for little guy—a temporary name substitution in the mean time because it gets weird calling his hybrid ‘little guy’ when he’s not under duress and the word ‘bunny’ just gets him all riled up.

Derek sometimes calls him that just to raise his hackles.

Regardless, it’s a win-win with the acronym.

“That sounds like it belongs to an old man,” LG pants, hopping around with enthusiasm, eyes sparkling with liveliness.

He’s warmed up in leaps to Derek and the apartment during the last two days which has Derek easing up in relief, only for it to be short termed and quickly replaced with annoyance.

LG is the _complete_ opposite of Derek—always looking extremely out of place against the monochrome settings of home. There’s no zest, no homey vibe to the place while LG is always dashing around the apartment with an animated essence and constantly smells worn it. The few clothes he brings with him back from the hybrid store are in flashy neons and dry punned icons that contrast with Derek’s dark navy and camouflaging Henleys.

Also, while Derek isn’t a dancer of any kind, he’s pretty confident with the fluidity of his movements however, LG isn’t exactly all that graceful in comparison.

That’s a total understatement.

LG has long, fidgety limbs and he works them jerkily and inconsistent, like he hasn’t been walking around with so much space in such a long time that he can’t roughly estimate how much moving around is _too_ much.

It’s kind of endearing though, in a spastically fond way.

“It’s not an old man’s name,” says Derek, wistfully, rolling his eyes when LG tries to show off with a huge leap but ends up knocking against the blunt edge of the coffee table with his legs. “It’s in a baby names book, so your argument? Invalid. Also, could you seat your nice bunny ass on the couch? Watching you hop around is giving me a headache.”

LG ignores him and whines pitifully, scut twitching violently as he wobbles his way to the couch. “ _Ow_ , it hurts. Your home is a safety hazard.”

“Of course it is with you jumping everywhere like a klutzed up monkey.” Derek tries to give him a stern look when LG argues back that he is very much _not_ a monkey, only for it to fall immediately when he sees the deep frown etched on LG’s face. He has a new weakness apparently.

“Fine,” Derek relents. “Now are you gonna sit still as we go through the names?”

LG’s ears flicks, pointing straight, as he peers up through his thick eyelashes to look at Derek. It shouldn’t be this distracting, but it is. “Only if you promise to feed me more of that thing you gave me yesterday. It was so good! What was it? The uh…uh—”

“Caramel apples?” Derek helps.

“Yeah!” LG smiles widely, clapping his hands excitedly. “That!”

Derek tuts at him, shaking his head. “Bribery will get you nowhere, LG. If you wanna go around hopping, fine, go. But I’m not gonna take care of you if you come crawling back to me if you bump your head or anything.”

“Spoilsport,” LG folds his arms, harrumphs at him childishly. “Joseph should be _your_ name. It fits the bill.”

Derek snorts because that is the worst comeback, ever, and he has received his fair share from Cora. He shrugs and glances back down at the book, index finger trailing down towards the next name.

“Jules?”

“Now you’re just making up names,” LG twists his body and shifts closer to Derek, minimalizing the space between them as he peers down to the book. “Do I even _look_ like a Jules to you?”

“No, of course not.” Derek says smugly. He has a brilliant reply at the tip of his tongue and he has to relish the pre-experience before he totally schools LG. Yes, he still has to remind himself that he’s a twenty four years old adult. “You look more of a—what’s that? Oh, right, _Bunny_.”

He gets shoved off the couch but he’s so far gone crowing with laughter from LG’s enraged expression that he can’t even begin to administer anything else, even the pain blossoming from his right hip.

Derek will never willingly admit but LG was _totally_ right about Joseph.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm posting chapters faster than i can write them ahhh *o* but you guys are totally awesome :3

Before he knows it, another week passes by in a surreal haze for Derek and it’s probably because he has a constant companion in his daily life—which, okay, that sounds a little iffy and wrong now that he rethinks, even margining on prostitution levels, which LG is definitely not one.

But, there are no other words for it—LG _is_ , has been Derek’s companion for the past week.

It’s… _nice._

Derek likes having someone there to greet him when he comes back from a long day of work where he part times for a phone company (no, not the sexual kind), or flits around him excitedly when he returns with handfuls of grocery bags that are mostly sugary treats that he heavily indulges LG with, or you know, when he discovers he likes pseudo cuddling— _with him._

Derek has never been a people’s person, even though he grew up in a large family. He usually shies away from contact unless it’s completely necessary, like receiving annual school awards of celebratory event hugs but other than that, he doesn’t go out of the way to initiate any forms of physicality.

It’s not that he has a bad past or anything like that.

He just doesn’t embody touching people. Like there are some people who are very cool with their sensuality—Derek _isn’t_.

Of course all of that flies out the window when Derek is forced into a situation where physical contact is required—again, not the sexual kind, but more of the my hybrid may actually piss himself because of a damn rainstorm that made itself known in the middle of the night and he wants to hide in my bed for the night until it stops sounding like a battlefield in his ears.

Yeah. This is his life now.

“Derek?” A voice whimpers distantly that quickly follows with a slurring of loud thumping against the hardwood floors that stops after a couple of beats only for his shoulders to be grabbed and violently shaken. “Der’k, wake up, please? I’m scared.”

Derek blinks his sleep caked eyes, rubbing on them. “—LG?”

“Yeah,” LG says and he can almost make out his shaking form in the dark when he squints. “I just—the noises outside are so loud in my room that I can’t go back to sleep and—”

He cuts off into a shrill sounding squeak, cowering onto his knees, when an intense roar booms into their hearing. Even Derek winces at it and he doesn’t even want to know how loud that must sound in LG’s ears.

He’s betting on really fucking terrifying.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Derek rambles, sleep still slurring in his speech. “C’mere.”

Derek scoots over a little, flipping up some of the covers and watches him with heavy-lidded eyes, climbing in with unsteadied limbs, hands pawing around the sheets.

There’s a warm gust of breath that whips across his naked torso (yeah, he sleeps shirtless because the nights get too hot in his room because he hasn’t gotten around to fixing the air conditioning since last spring—it’s been almost a year) when LG lets out a muffled yelp when a bright flash of lightning flares across the walls of his room.

LG whines, scurrying in quickly after that and pulling the sheets over his head.

Derek holds back a chuckle, murmuring, “Better?”

He hums a response but even in his barely awake addled mind, Derek knows he’s lying.

Words only fail LG in two dire types of situations, and these are the only ones that Derek found out during the past week, which are when he’s too deep in a fight or flight stance or when he’s bouncing on some serious sugar rush.

He’s not a creep, he swears. Just… observant.

“…You sure?” Derek asks again.

He’s not exactly probing for a definitive answer from him. Just something a little more than what he’s given—I mean, the least LG could do is nod back and assuring Derek all is fine—which would be stretching a little.

Damn it.

He’ll settle for a nod. Or a snarky response. Either or, really.

Instead he gets a soft snuffle from under the sheets—and Derek’s waiting for the epic nod, the one that would make his ricocheting worrying heart feel a little at ease but nope. LG hums, _again_.

Derek draws the covers down slowly, just a little bit, out of curiosity—his hybrid could be suffocating with fear beside him right at this moment and he’ll never know if he sees him in the flesh—and he squints his eyes, letting his sight adjust to the dark form curled beside him in a tight foetal position.

LG is nuzzling his cheek against the pillow, eyes shut close without any tension lines running at the corners, which Derek woops inwardly, satisfied, that his hybrid is in fact not suffocating, or dying, or doing anything morbid like chewing his nails off or something.

_What?_

It was a warned situation in the guide book for bunny hybrids which means that they’re losing their shit to the maximum capacity and probably should be placed in someone else’s care. If it’s in a book—it’s legitimate.

His teachers taught him that in high school.

Derek gets so lost on drunkenness from staying awake that he doesn’t even realize that he’s blatantly staring at LG. The way he’s getting cosier with his pillow, nose burrowing into it or the way his eyelashes flutter with each exhale.

He even starts noticing the small physical things, apart the glaringly obvious bunny traits, because he’s afraid it might come off creepy and honestly?

Derek _knows_ he has an intense stare.

Laura’s told him that countless of times, berated actually, since he’s made her kids cry at the drop of a hat whenever he pops over at her place. It’s not his fault that he kind of glazes at them each time with wonderment at their tiny pink feet,  or their stubby hands, and _god_ —their little baby nails.

He guesses that it’s his own body’s way of making up with the scarce intimacy with mindless eye fucking observance skills.

But now he’s presented with this golden opportunity to get a good look, honest-to-god stare blatantly at him and not worry that he’s taking two, or three, or five minutes too long to be considered normal.

LG has his face twisted into the pillow so Derek is only limited to a darkened sort of silhouette of his profile but the moonlight does well, sprinkling areas with enough light to make out his features. He sports some really nice moles on his face, peppering along his cheek—it kind of looks like a three year old masterpiece with a black sharpie pen.

It’s _fascinating_.

Derek never lets his eyes stray far, always focusing on LG’s eyes and nothing more, okay, _fine._ Maybe there is the _occasional_ dip down to his chest area to read the corny pop culture puns on his shirt (he remembers snorting at one, the stud muffin shirt, even told him it’s an excellent shirt), but other than that…nothing.

It’s all so PG rated that he could have been mistaken for a pastor.

His eyes loses its focus a couple of times, trying to mentally take in how many moles he has just on his face before it trails down, a light speckle on his jawline and on his neck.

Derek only stops trying to trace where they go when the crew neck of LG’s shirt blocks his view and trying to peep further is just perverted on so, _so_ many wrong levels.

“I can feel you staring at me,” LG mumbles and there’s a lazy contentment in his voice. He’s pretty certain that if his hybrid wasn’t part bunny but has feline roots, he’d be purring a storm. He squints an eye open just before Derek has the chance to glance away. Damn it. “Aha! Knew it!”

Derek grumbles, scowling, even though he knows LG could probably see the look on his face in the dark with his hybrid abilities.

“I was just worried that you choked on your own tears.”

“Yep, sure you were.” LG rolls his eyes, well, Derek thinks he did but even if he didn’t, it’s evident in his voice. “Because this face you’re looking at right now is totally the face of someone who’s choking.”

“Shut up,” Derek grouches, sinking back onto his pillow. “You woke me up shaking with fear; _of course_ I would be taking caution. You never know, LG—and I don’t want any, especially _your_ blood on my hands.”

There’s a pregnant beat between them and he thinks that maybe LG is backing down from any more crass banter between them, which would probably end up with him pointing out how Derek had molesting eyes a few minutes ago, but with LG, you really just don’t know.

Instead, he shuffles closer to him and nuzzles his cheek against Derek’s naked chest. He knows it’s probably not a nice experience since he hasn’t done any manscaping in years, likes to just keep it all natural, all untamed and rough to the touch.

What’s the point anyway?

He likes his pubes the way it is and there are never enough women magazines (not that he reads them, _pfft_ , what’s a cosmo?) to convince him otherwise.

LG shuffles closer to him, presses his nose against the tight muscle that leads to his armpits and inhales. He’s done it a few times the past week, reckons it’s a hybrid thing, so it’s not freaking him out— _much_.

However, it’s the first skin on skin contact he’s gotten in, uh, months. He’s not big in the dating department which is why he overcompensates that with the Camaro.

… _Just kidding_.

See, Derek can do humour despite what the contrary thinks, even though it’s all in his own head.

Anyway, his heart is thrumming double time under his ribcage and he’s almost certain if his heart flips one more time, he’d be having a cardiac arrest.

“Thanks…anyway.” LG tells him and he breathes in again, deeply, bumping his cold nose against his pec. “I hate thunderstorms. It’s my one true kryptonite, alas, now you know for certain it’s not you.”

Derek chokes and he thinks it might be laughter, or his heart trying to shove its way out of his nostrils. He’s not entirely sure.

“Uh, that sounds more like an insult than an assurance.” Derek replies, nonchalantly, even though he’s probably starting to sweat at his pits. “So you’re actually thanking me with an insult? How nice of you.”

LG grins against his skin and he feels the warm puffs of air against his slowly pebbling nipples and the soft furs of his ears brushing against his jaw. He kind of wants to press his cheek against it but only resists it because—yeah, that’d be real fucking weird.

“Only the best, Derek,” He mumbles and flutters his eyes closed again.

Derek can only blame it on his sleepy demeanour that he didn’t even come close to shoving LG off after he falls asleep beside him, or well, half on top of him if you count that he acted as a pillow for the entirety of the night.

However, the next night when LG slips into his bedroom with an armful of his own blanket, he finds himself unable to make any excuses even though there’s not a single sight of a darkened cloud in the night sky.

He shoves that information down with his denial and locks it with the ‘LG is your hybrid, drill that, Hale. Not literally— _god_ , you are worse than a paedophile. You want to play blanket pulling with your half bunny hybrid, the one that you _bought_ for two grand—the one that’s _underage._ No. Just. No.’

Except when he wakes up with a mouthful of LG’s furry ear in his mouth and boxers damp with pre-come, rock hard dick twitching against his thigh, he’s unable to remember any of the bullshit he reprimanded himself with last night.

Well, shit.


	4. Chapter 4

Derek ignores the rising ( _ha!_ ) problem because apparently ignoring all the god awful things that happens in his life is actually his one true professionalism.

So, he does just that, like how he did back in high school, freshman year, when the entire student body with the exception of the science geeks (they had at it the worst) made fun of him because he was wearing headgear before he got weaned into braces.

Or that one time, fine, multiple humiliating times where he tripped in the hallway and landed smack on his ass.

If he closes his eyes, he can still hear the moment his denim ass cheeks landed on the ground.

Yeah, Derek in the past was a real people chaser, all teenage acne and weird coordination.

However, this time the whole ignoring _thing_ just isn’t working out the way he wants it go.

Firstly, his mind is a cruel betrayal to his sanity and does things like remind him at a constant hourly basis that whatever he’s doing is somewhat futile, or when it isn’t doing that, said problem backfires on him.

It’s nerve-wracking, really.

Like, sometimes LG would bend over to pick something up and Derek’s been thinking he’s doing it on purpose, more so after they’ve been shacking it up like close bedroom buds. He’s always just right around Derek’s peripheral, and his eyes would snap to LG in an instance, roving _hungrily_ over the fitted gym shorts he lent him a few days back when it was laundry day.

The lycra stretches tight and so nicely over the curve of his ass, outlining the cheeks in perfect, taunting form that makes Derek ache right in the balls and there’s always his tail, teasing out the bottom of his shirt like a promise—or the worst reminder that he is his _hybrid_.

Or right now, Derek is leaning against the door frame of his kitchen, staring at how LG has one knee up on the counter, the other standing on his tip-topes and he’s grunting, making little staccatos noises under his nose as his fingers reaches out for something.

He flicks his eyes up to the cabinet and sees it’s where he keeps the stash of packed caramel apples behind the coffee filters, that sneaky bunny, and at the same time coming into a realization that the reason why his dick is going to start chafing real soon if he doesn’t get quality lube is because of his hybrid.

Yeah, he has issues processing the glaringly obvious, also denials helps slow down a lot of it too.

“What are you doing, LG?” Derek scolds and he takes pleasure, no, _not_ pleasure, immense _gratification_ that LG flinches, losing his stance momentarily and shrieks out, gripping onto the cabinet doors to balance himself.

Not so much gratification when LG shorts rides up with the sudden flail of movements, giving him a really mean wedgie. If he squints hard enough, he can see the outline of his hybrid’s balls.

Derek doesn’t squint.

“Dude!” LG sort of screeches and shouts at the same time, wide-eyed and flailing. “Derek! I could have died, damn it! Your counter isn’t a walk in the sandbox, you know? It’s all buttery and oily with all that cooking you do.”

One of LG’s ears flattens onto his head while the other stays perked, the tips folding down slightly, like it just got caught red-handed, which he did.

“Huh,” Derek scoffs mildly. “And why are you up on the counter? Last I checked, dinner’s not for another few more hours.”

At least LG has some decency to blush, and _oh_ —does it look pretty. The way his skin flushes blood red at his nape, the paleness of his skin losing its edge with the marvel of his blushing and it travels down under his shirt.

Derek’s _almost_ —almost tempted to storm over there, tears the cotton to shreds with his teeth and sees where it leads to, if the blush actually runs all the way down to his dick.

See? Backfiring.

“Well,” LG says and juts his bottom lip out indignantly. “I was gonna get a snack, you know, like a tea-time sort of thing?

Derek puts his stoic game face on. “We’ve talked about asking for permission, didn’t we, LG?”

“But—”

“C’mon, LG,” Derek groans, eyebrows pinching and annoyance slowly dripping in his voice. He doesn’t actually mean for it to sound like he’s being an asshole but he’s been a shaking ball of sexual frustrated with limited outlets.

The wonders of getting a hybrid—it’s almost equivalent to killing all private time with your right hand.

He’s only human, so Derek snaps.

“We _just_ went through this.”

LG widens his eyes comically and if the kitchen isn’t dead quiet, Derek would have missed the quiet gasp that follows after he spits the sentence out but the silence doesn’t drag on for too long.

“I’m not a damn child—or, or an _animal_!” He shouts brazenly, ears twitching furiously and eyes cutting. LG’s tone shocks Derek out from looking at the ground. “I know I may be a hybrid and all that because you bought me off the goddamn shelf but I don’t need to _beg_ for some rights as to if and when _I_ want to eat, okay!”

LG pulls his knee off the counter with a jerky swipe. Derek’s never seen LG lose his temper before, not even when they are both getting restless after flipping through hundreds of names with nothing familiar at sight and they’re pulling at each other hairs in annoyance.

“I get that—”

“No,” LG says, breaths labouring with this new unbridled anger. “No, you don’t, Derek. You and _everyone_ out there will always see me as this…this _pet_ that you get to have total control over. Yeah, newsflash? I’ve seen that guidebook you bought when we were back at the store. _What?_ You think I’ve never read it when I was being kept in _there_?”

Derek startles.

“I just wanted to take proper care of you!” He raises his voice a little louder, arguing, not exactly margining on levels of shouting yet and he doesn’t want to do that, doesn’t want to feel the heat of a displaced frustration flushing at the back of his ears. “I didn’t want to do or have fed you something wrong and have you died on me! Fuck.”

“Then _ask_ me,” LG stresses and his shoulders slump with the words. “I need someone to take care of me, not a damn dictator or a parent. I’ve already got a dad of my own, okay? I don’t need you to replace that for me. It’s weird, honestly.”

“You do?” Derek asks, softly and tentative, sensing the conversation strafing away. He takes a step forward only when LG nods a reply. “Why… You didn’t tell me that.”

LG looks at him warily, calculative when he approaches and only relaxes when Derek strafes and reaches up to take one of the caramel apples off the top shelf with a smooth movement instead.

He offers it as a sign of truce with a small smile.

“Gonna take more than that, buddy,” LG tells him although there’s the glee bouncing in his eyes. He tears it open with his teeth, mumbling as he chews. “There’s nothing much to tell anyway.”

Derek is kind of taken aback by that.

Family has always been such a constant thing for him in his life, especially through the horrible acne-filled years when he didn’t willingly participate in most of the Sunday activities only to get pulled in by his siblings. There are at least a thousand over stories he could casually retell with close friends.

Well, he has Laura and Cora— _and_ LG now—but he thinks the former and a hybrid don’t count.

“But, they’re your parents. I’m sure there’s… _something_.”

LG stops mid-chew, the thudding of his tail thumps against the lower cabinets in hesitant beats. “Well, it’s just _parent_. Singular. My mom died when she gave birth to me. Don’t—don’t apologize.” He frowns, ears flicking a little. “I’ve read it on a newspaper once when Albert used to get the daily times at the store. Something about hybrid births causes too much blood loss with the—”

He chokes off.

“Hey,” Derek quickly steps up and pulls him into his arms, tightening his hold, uncaring that he has caramel sauce smearing on his arm. “I’m sorry… and not for that, but you know, earlier. I—I didn’t know. I just, you were a whim. I know, that sounds horrible but it’s true. I had no idea what I was supposed to do at all and the guide book was just a means to help me.”

Derek doesn’t say that it’s because of his eyes—soulful, brown ones that made his heart break a little at first sight—that made him shout out to the store front, announcing “Yep. It’s this guy. He’s the one.”

“It’s okay.” LG does a croon-like mewl, rubbing his cheek against his shirt. “It was pretty cute watching you try to train me like a dog though.”

Derek snorts, burrowing his laughter into LG’s hair.

“Dude,” LG blurts after a few seconds of them staying still. “I have a really nasty wedgie that’s stuck in my ass that I really need to pull.”

Well, at least Derek spent the last ten minutes without trying to fuck his hybrid into oblivion in his mind. It’s a new personal record, some might say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh school assignments piling up and i'm just gah stressing out ;_;  
> leave me your love xo


	5. Chapter 5

LG is sprawled out across his couch, legs tucked under his thighs as he channel surfs on the television, thumb flicking mindlessly on the remote while snorting out grunts every once in a while when Derek throws a few names at him.

They’re already at the letter ‘O’ and LG still doesn’t even seem the least bit fazed that he still can’t seem to remember his name even though they’ve been going on this repetitive loop with names for nearly a month. It digs at Derek because despite how much he likes how the nickname seems to fit nicely on him, it’s not his _given_ name.

He also tries not to let himself sink down to the reason as to why LG can’t get a decent pick up at the memory of his own name because they all lead to something tragic and woefully bounded. The few times he went there, it was to thoughts of LG being separated from his dad for such a long time that he can’t even recall the individual tidbits of himself.

Derek called in sick and had a cheat day with Ben and Jerry’s with LG chomping on caramel apples beside him.

“What about Oliver? It sounds fitting.” He asks.

LG blows a fart noise through his thinned lips, fringe flopping against his eyes. “Not getting any vibes from that. Too nursery rhymes, anyway.”

Derek hums and thumbs to the next page. “Uh. Omar?”

He gets smacked on the face with a throw pillow.

-

Derek’s forcefully jiggling the keys into the lock hole of his door, grunting at the sour pull of muscles in his arms from the collective weight of grocery bags and the pick-up dinner he got after he finished his shift at work but he knows it’ll all be worth it to see LG bouncing around, gleaming excitedly at the Chinese food he got since they’ve been eating healthy, organic food for the past week.

When the door finally relents (it’s the fucking rusty hinges), Derek shoves the door open with a bump of his shoulder and walks into the apartment, peeling his shoes off with his heels.

“Hey, little guy!” Derek yells for him, shuffling into the kitchen and places the bags of groceries on the counter haphazardly. “Guess what I got for dinner?”

“Well, I do hope that it’s enough for three.” A voice chimes from behind him, light and familiar that makes Derek’s blood run cold and have his entire mind reeling.

Derek spins around, gaping. “Jesus Christ. _Laura?_ Wh—what are you doing here? I mean, fuck. That’s not what I mean.” He says, wiping his face with both hands. “I didn’t know you were coming to town. Why didn’t you call?”

Laura grins and prances towards him for a hug which Derek reciprocates mildly, patting her on the back twice. He may still be in shock.

“Just wanted to check up on my baby brother since _you_ haven’t called either. For a month. The little monsters I call my kids misses their Uncle Derek, idiot.”

“Oh god—” Derek splutters, eyes widening. “It totally slipped my mind. I’ve just been so busy with work and—Oh Jesus. You met him, haven’t you?”

“That’s a good reaction to go to.” Laura snorts, entirely amused. “So, when have you been meaning to tell that you got yourself a hybrid, hm?” Then she snaps a sharp glare at him, hissing. “—or that he’s Beacon Hill’s formerly retired Deputy Stilinski’s son?”

“I— _What?_ ”

LG must have heard the commotion because he creeps up behind the partition wall the separates the living hall and kitchen, murmuring, “…Derek?” His ears are flattened against the nest of his bed hair and he’s still in his sleep clothes that Derek saw him in last night. “I’m sorry I opened the door even though you told me many times not to do it. I—she said she was your sister and that she forgot to bring the spare key.” He gulps. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“Oh, honey.” Laura coos, eyes softening before she smacks him on the chest making Derek flinch. It hurts, okay? She used to win arm wrestling against him. Well, by used, he means last year but same difference. “Fucking hell, Derek. You’ve cowered that poor baby into submission already. How could you do that?”

Derek snarls at her without any real heat before he looks at LG, trying to soothe out the tense lines in his face. “It’s fine, LG. Just—don’t do it again, alright? Remember what I said about strangers?” LG nods at him, lips quivering a little. “Why don’t you go sit in the living hall for a bit? Laura and I need to talk a little before we could start on dinner. That okay with you?”

LG’s nose twitches, blinking his eyes like he can’t believe he got off the hook and also managing to get television privileges before dinner. Yeah… it’s a thing. Derek doesn’t like technology to get in the way of bonding time, alright?

“Alright! Sure.” He beams at Derek then turns to Laura. “Nice to see you, Laura.” Before he shuffles back to the living hall.

Derek watches the trace of his back until LG finally slouches down onto the couch, pulling his feet up to his chest as he fumbles around the remote in his hands then he turns back to Laura, tight-lipped.

“You were saying?”

Laura sighs, exasperated. “Remember Nick?”

Derek nods because who doesn’t remember Nick. He was this horrible douchebag that stomped all over Laura’s heart a couple years ago before she decided to start fresh in Arizona, lamenting that Laura’s trying to tie him down and he just isn’t ready to commit in ‘settling’.

A real fucking class act, that guy.

“Yeah, that righteous prick.” Laura adds after he sees the distasteful expression that’s probably wearing on his face. “Anyway, he was in the police force, although at a lower rank. Just your normal buddy cop. I’ve dropped by the station a couple of times and he’s introduced me to all his colleagues. Few times I was there, met that boy who’s sitting in your living hall with Deputy Stilinski. Couldn’t have been beyond ten years old at that time, probably.”

Derek purses his lips, dubious. “That’s really vague, Lou. That kid could be anyone.”

Laura rolls her eyes at him, snappish. “Yeah, that’s because bunny hybrids appear very often in my life, that I’m fucking sure. Look, Der, I know what I saw okay? That kid is Stilinski’s boy, through and through.”

Derek feels a roll of protectiveness surge in him for LG. “Well, that kid? Is mine now. I’m sure not going to bang down on Deputy Stilinski’s door and return him his kid just because.”

“Ugh,” Laura scoffs, disgruntled. “There’s so many things wrong with what you just said. Christ, Derek, your hybrid is someone’s _kid_. He’s barely an adult!”

Derek huffs, “Enough. Just—I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay?”

“Derek.” She says warningly.

“I said leave it.” Derek tells, voice firm. “I’ve read the contract before I bought him, okay? I’ve read the files given to me and apparently, he was sold to the hybrid market without any reasoning and you should be glad that it was me who bought him because if you haven’t noticed, hybrid abuse has been on the rise.”

“ _But_ —”

“No, Lou.” He interrupts. “That Stilinski guy may be LG’s father but I’m his guardian now and that’s until he wishes to revoke that when he turns of age. So, I may be a dick for not wanting to return him to a shitty parent that sold him away for cash but _I_ have a good jurisdiction on my case that I’m not the bad guy in this situation.”

Laura looks at him, calculative before she sighs, air gusting out from her nose. “Fine. I trust what you’re doing, Der, you know I do but it’s just—it comes off a little shocking that I haven’t heard from you in week and when I come to check on you, you’re harbouring a hybrid in your apartment. God knows what happened.”

Derek snorts, the tensed moment between them receding. “Do I really look like a hybrid kidnapper to you?”

“After the way you lied your teeth off to mom when you were the one who stole my ice-cream back when we were younger?” Laura argues, brow arching. “Wouldn’t second guess it.”

“Aw. Love you too, sis.”

-

Laura leaves shortly after dinner, waving a dismissal hand when Derek insists that she spend the night to rest before she heads back to Arizona.

“They may be little spawns of devil but I miss them. Call it mother’s withdrawal or whatever.” Laura says flippantly, tugging on her boots at the front door. “Also, Phil may have completely spoilt them with junk food by now. God knows they’re going to be up all night because of the sugar rush and he’s not going to be able to handle it.”

“Damn it, Phil.” Derek says fondly, shaking his head. He pulls Laura into his arms, feeling the familiar curve of her body against him and the warmth of having someone who he’s connected by blood in his reach settling in his bones. “Sorry for getting defensive just now. I know you meant well but as you know, Cora is away from home, busy with University life, Ma and Pa are over on the other side of the county and I—I miss having someone near.”

“Hey, I understand.” Laura whispers, scritching at his hair the way she used to when they were younger and Derek positively sags into her. “It’s kind of my fault that I decided to take the path of running away from this god awful town but I still see it as home. I’ll try to come visit more often, maybe bring the kids and Phil down. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like a promise you should keep.” Derek chuckles, pulling away and then turns to the living hall where LG is settled in front of the television, watching cartoons. “LG, do you want to say bye to Laura? She’s leaving.”

LG yells back an affirmation and bounces to the front door and into Laura’s arms, ears straight up that Derek could see the light blue veins branching under the flaps of them. “I’m glad that you weren’t a random person coming to eat me. Bunny meat isn’t good for you, or so I heard.”

Laura laughs, eyes scrunching. “Oh, I like him.”

“Me too,” Derek says softly, squeezing LG lightly on the shoulder. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school's being a bitch so the updates are coming a little slower as i have exams in two weeks time D:  
> but nonetheless, here it is!


	6. Chapter 6

During the course of next week, Laura’s words constantly flitters at the forefront of his mind, edging at him that starts to feel a whole lot like guilt. He even messed up a couple of calls whilst at work, grunting monosyllables to various interested customers that had his manager tell him to take the rest of the day off to get his head out of his ass.

Derek just reached to his doorstep, folding up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows when LG scrambles out from his room, nose and ears twitching that betrays his nonchalant expression.

“You’re, uh, home early.” LG states matter of factly. “You’re usually home at six. It’s only—half past three.”

“Yeah,” Derek grunts, ruffling his hair before he tugs off his backpack. “Had a lot on my mind.”

“Wanna share?” LG asks tentatively, eyes bright with greedy expectancy. “I’ve been told that I’m a great listener. The best, actually, by your sister. She says I’m a little too quiet, though.”

“You’re noisy.” Derek says bluntly and then tries to pull back his tongue when he realizes what he’s said but LG’s oblivious to the innuendo, hopping up on the couch and pats it excitedly. “Did you raid the cupboards for sugar again, LG?”

LG pouts, fidgeting around guiltily. “Maybe… Are you mad?”

“Nah,” Derek smiles warmly at him and slumps down beside him on the couch, groaning pleasurably as his butt gets the proper treatment after assaulting it on a hard stool for half the day. “What have you been doing?”

“Nothing much.” LG shrugs, inching closer to him until their thighs press warmly against each other. “Been waiting for you to come home so we could play something on the Xbox together. It’s no fun playing alone. People are always shouting at me.”

Derek chuckles. “Wanna go through some names together?”

LG frowns, shaking his head. “Not really. I’ve really come to like the name you’ve given to me, though. It’s nice. Different nice.”

“Don’t you want to figure out your real name? I’m sure the baby book has it. We just… haven’t found it yet but I just know that it’s in there.”

“Can’t we just stick with this?” LG asks and adds, “Please?”

Derek shivers from the spark of anger and exhaustion that bleeds in his veins, wondering how much LG’s dad, or ‘Deputy Stilinski’ has messed him up to the point that he doesn’t even want to have any affiliation to his own name and thinks if it’s a large play in denial. That gets him even more worked up and he just wants to flip the phone book to find this Stilinski guy to bash him up.

Of course violence never solves anything but the son of a bitch deserves it.

“How about Stiles?” Derek tries after a pregnant pause between them, figures that the nickname is almost similar to his last name that he might regain some previous semblance of memory. He watches the flicker of emotions on LG’s face and the way he starts tugging furiously on his bottom lip.

“Yeah… that’ll do too.” LG— _Stiles_ beams up at him and Derek lets out a bated breath he’s holding. Maybe they’re not the same person at all and Laura’s been wrong all along but fuck, he’s not going to let the matter dwell within him anymore because if Stiles really is his son, it’s totally proven that he isn’t ready to remember that part of his life despite the previous conversation they had about Stiles’ family.

And Derek isn’t going to be one to force him to.

Well, either that or Stiles has already let the entire thing go, regardless he won’t let ‘Deputy Stilinski’ come within them. He would fight to his death—yeah, like, with lawyers and everything.

“I think I’m feeling a lot better already.” Derek smiles at him and feels the heavy weight that has been sitting on his shoulders eases off a little after their talk. “Wanna go play some games before dinner?”

Stiles bumps onto his shoulder, yipping, as an affirmation.

-

It’s a couple of weeks later when Derek finally gets used to calling LG by Stiles and hasn’t accidentally slipped his mouth with his original nickname in a few days so he thinks of it was an achievement. Also, another thing that should be celebrated is that he hasn’t thought of Stiles in _that_ way ever since Laura dropped by so he counts it as a really big win.

Of course that streak doesn’t carry on for too long because on one night when Derek isn’t able to sleep and is camping out on the armchair with a book on his lap, Stiles slinks out of his own room, arms wrapped around his pillow and his hair a complete mess that makes his heart miss a beat from how adorable it looks.

Stiles is rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm, yawning as he stumbles clumsily over to Derek, plopping down on him and curls his body until they both fit snug onto the large seat.

“What’re you doing up?” Stiles slurs, eyes barely opened as he mumbles into Derek’s sleep shirt.

“Can’t sleep.” Derek whispers into his hair and tries to squirm around so that Stiles’ ass isn’t directly in contact with his groin. He can’t afford to get hard with his hybrid, yes, keep that in mind, Hale, on top of him. That’s just— there’s a line between fantasy and reality and it shouldn’t blur no matter how much his dick wants it to.

“Mm,” Stiles hums, a faint smile on his lips and Derek can see the whitish dried up saliva that’s flaking at the corners of his mouth. His fingers twitch against the spine of his book. “You smell good.”

“It’s called taking a bath. Don’t know if you heard of it.” Derek teases and inhales a little of the lingering scent of the shampoo he uses on Stiles’ hair and ears, the soft wisps of fur tickling against his cheek. “Well, you smell pretty decent too.”

“Mm’fanks. Used your soap.” Stiles murmurs, nuzzling near his armpits before he slowly drags his eyes up to look at Derek that makes all the restraining resolve in him crumble. Stiles looks sleep wasted, the faint dark circles under his eyes doesn’t even look bad on him instead it draws out the vibrant ambers in his eyes and fuck—he just looks so complacent with satisfaction, unlike the twitchy little bunny that was sitting in his car just three months ago.

“Christ, you really like testing me, don’t you?” Derek grumbles, feeling the low curl of heat clenching in his abdomen.

Stiles grins and bumps his head against his chin softly while his scut is twitching against Derek’s left thigh, able to feel the heartbeat thumps of it until it rattles deep into his bones. He does it again, even more gently than before, before he rubs his nose against his jaw.

Derek chuckles low and wetly at the back of his throat. “Your nose is cold.”

“Mm, I know. Feels good.” Stiles says and presses his face against his neck after he’s done, shallow puffs of breaths wafting against his skin. “Continue reading. I won’t disturb you. Promise.”

Derek barely understands the next few chapters he reads that night.

-

Cora calls him out of the blue a week later while he’s at work and Derek’s startled when he sees her name on the caller id of his phone. He picks up the call warily because she never dials for him unless it’s during birthdays and public holidays since she’s always too caught up with university life in Columbia.

Derek doesn’t want to pile on any more stress that she’s already dealing with and he gets updates from Laura anyway. She has those frequent flyer miles thing for air flights which Derek is vaguely jealous of as he misses Cora fiercely but he’s afraid of planes so (hey, they’re really high up in the sky okay, don’t judge him)—it’s not all _that_ bad.

“Cora?” Derek answers, voice cracking with concern. “You okay?”

“Dee!” Cora screeches into the phone and Derek has to drag the phone away from his ear because it’s positively bleeding now. “I’ve missed you so much! How are you? And, am I cutting into your hours at work?”

“Kind of,” Derek says, amused. “But it’s fine. Nothing I won’t do for my baby sister. What’s going on? And—why are you calling me out so suddenly?”

“Aw,” Cora coos, voice warmed with the insinuation. “If only people really know that under all that grumpiness, you’re actually a real care bear. The finest. Oh! With rainbow threads and a pouch that’s filled with gumdrops.”

Derek snorts. “A true exclusive, Cor. How’s university?”

“Eh. It’s alright. Exams are coming up and then its three months of break before the final year.” Cora says. “Thinking of going back to stay because I’ve been away from home for way too long. God, I’m homesick, Dee.”

Cora’s always been a weird kid with the way she shows her affection and Derek can’t help but think that Stiles and her have that in common. Stiles who sneaks fleeting touches at him after that night, pressing warm fingertips to the back of his neck that breaks goose pimples on his arms or how he’s been pressing his chin against his shoulder in the mornings while he brews hic cup of coffee.

Derek doesn’t even realize he’s grinning to himself until Cora shouts his name through the phone.

“Heard from Lou that you got yourself a hybrid,” Cora says a tad too smugly. “How’s that going for ya? Did you tell them that you brutally murdered my hamster when we were younger?”

Derek squawks, adjusting his stance. “Firstly, whatever Laura has told you is complete bullshit. We both know that. And secondly, that was an accident okay? I didn’t mean to—oh, shut up, Cor. Real mature. You’re what, twenty years old now?”

Cora’s still laughing over the fizz of the phone call and Derek huffs, unsettled.

“But yeah, he’s—Stiles—he’s a nice little guy.” He says softly when Cora starts stifling her giggles. “You’ll definitely like him.”

There’s a small beat of silence that passes which Derek almost assumes that their call got dropped until Cora suddenly snorts, loud and obnoxious.

“Oh, _oh!_ Dee!” She roars in between bouts of cackling. God, Derek forgets how annoying she is sometimes. “You _like_ him. Not the kind of puppy like, the type that you don’t care about cooties liking because _I_ know that tone of voice, Dee. You’ve only used it on that one girl you almost built a shrine for back in high school—”

 “Shut. Up.” Derek groans. “Please, just, don’t bring that up and _don’t_ tell Laura? She’ll probably tease me from hell to back and then call up Ma and Pa which I just really don’t need them breathing down my throat from downtown California. I really don’t.”

Cora gasps wetly, probably from after she choked on her own devious laughter. Serves her right. “They don’t know?”

“No,” Derek says and adds softly. “Not yet. Soon though.”

“Aw, Dee. Does _he_ know? Stiles, is it?”

 _If he does, he’s a fucking cock tease,_ Derek thinks but instead he mumbles, “Well, in layman terms, he’s pretty oblivious but it’s alright. Pining extraordinaire I am.”

“It’s okay, I’m going to come down for Thanksgiving and Christmas and we’re going to sort all of that out.” Cora tells enthusiastically and Derek cringes at the thought of that because he really doesn’t need help in that aspect because really—just no. She’s his little sister, damn it. “Alright, Dee, I gotta bounce. Classes are starting in fifteen and I need to go get my caffeine fix. You know us Hales, addicts with our coffee.”

“Alright,” Derek laughs. “Take care. Love you.”

“Love you too!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exams are tough and this chapter is going to go up so that i can get some butt-kicking motivation to continue writing this story because IT'S TEMPTING TO DELETE IT D:


End file.
